Christmas Of Interest
by SamanthaReese
Summary: Someone pays the team a visit on Christmas eve, when they were each seven years old.
1. How Did You Find Me?

**A/N: Okay so this is my first "Person Of Interest" fic. It's more of a fun one than it is a serious one. If you like it, then awesome. If you hate it, then oh well. I can't please everyone. Moving on, I hope you enjoy this first chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harold Finch.**

* * *

 **"This is the message of Christmas: We are never alone." ~Taylor Caldwell**

* * *

Seven year old Harold Finch was sleeping peacefully in his bed when suddenly a noise from downstairs, woke him up. Reaching for his eye glasses on the nightstand, Harold quietly got out of bed. Although he was terrified, he had to go see who or what was in his home, but not before grabbing something to defend himself with. Not that he'd actually attack anyone. It was just to scare away who or whatever it was in his home. Harold just wasn't the violent type. Without thinking, he grabbed the first thing he saw. A plastic toy golf club.

Tiptoeing ever so quietly down the stairs with his toy golf club in his hands, Harold was startled to see a large man in a red and white suit. The man was taking gifts out of a red bag and placing them under the Christmas tree in the living room. Harold knew who the man was. It was Santa Claus, obviously. But what he didn't know was how Santa had found his home. He never gave him his address and was certain his parents hadn't either.

Suddenly he felt his feet moving closer to the man. _STOP!_ His mind silently shouted, but it was as though his feet had a mind of their own. They kept moving, until Harold was just mere inches away from Santa.

"Santa," he croaked. His voice suddenly felt dry and raspy. If only he had gotten a drink from the glass of water that was sitting on his nightstand before going downstairs. "Santa," he spoke a little more clearer and louder. He jumped back when Santa turned and greeted him.

"Why little Harold Finch," Santa smiled at the boy. "isn't it past your bedtime." He reached over to tousle the boy's hair.

Harold dodged Santa's hand.

"How did you find me," he ignored Santa's question.

Santa let out one of his world famous jolly laughs. Although Harold didn't admit it, the laugh terrified him. He shuddered at the sound of it.

"I know where everyone lives," Santa answered.

"But I never gave you my address and neither did my parents," said Harold. He was really confused.

Santa let out another laugh. Harold really wished he would stop doing that. He convinced that he would be traumatized for the rest of his life if he heard that laugh one more time.

"There was no need for it. I already had it. I have everyone's address," Santa was now helping himself to the plate of sugar cookies and glass of milk on the coffee table. Harold had thought his parents left the cookies and milk out just for the fun of it. He never thought Santa would actually show up at his house. He politely declined when Santa offered him a cookie.

"How did you get in here," asked Harold. "All the doors and windows are locked."

"The same way I get into other homes," said Santa, after taking a drink of milk. "down the fireplace."

"But, but, that's impossible," Harold stammered. "You would have gotten trapped or burned." He knew no one could enter a home simply by going down the fireplace, unless Santa wasn't like anyone else.

As if Santa had been reading his mind, he tried to ease the young boy's thoughts.

"Oh but Harold," he began. "you seem to not realize that I'm not like anyone else. I have magical powers that allow me to go down fireplaces without getting hurt. "

"I don't believe it," Harold shrugged his shoulders. "There has to be another way."

Santa wanted to stay and explain to Harold, but he knew he couldn't. He still had a bag full of gifts to be delivered to thousands of other good boys and girls. The sun would be coming up in less than six hours.

With a twinkle in his eye and a friendly smile, Santa reached out and tousled the young boy's hair. Harold was a bit annoyed by it as he pulled away.

"I must be going now, Harold. There are a lot more gifts to be delivered before the sun comes up."

Harold stood there as he watched Santa step into the fireplace with his signature red bag full of gifts. Suddenly Santa began to float upward.

"Wow," Harold whispered to himself. He raced over to the window to see if he could see anything. He smiled when he saw a red sleigh flying through the cold starry night. It was an experience that he was sure he would never forget. Suddenly yawning, he went back upstairs to his bedroom and fell fast asleep.

* * *

 **End of chapter one. So, what did you all think? Did you like it? Did you hate it? Please let me know by leaving me some reviews. I would most definitely appreciate it! Just please don't be too cruel if you hated it. I'll have chapter two posted as soon as possible. Thanks for reading this first chapter!**


	2. Trouble Sleeping

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed for the first chapter. I really appreciate it! I hope you'll enjoy this next chapter just as much.**

 **Disclaimer: Nope. I own no one in this chapter.**

* * *

Joss Carter was having trouble sleeping that Christmas Eve night. Seeing that it was still dark outside, the seven year old crawled out of bed and tiptoed down the dark hallway and into the living room.

Usually when she couldn't sleep, Joss would turn on the television. Her parents never knew she would occasionally sneak out of her room in the middle of the night and watch television. This had been going on for quite some time now. She always made sure to never fall asleep on the couch. Otherwise, her parents would ban her from television for a week.

When Joss walked into the living room that Christmas Eve night, she was unaware that she wasn't alone. Just a few feet away from her, Santa Claus was placing gifts under the Christmas tree. Finally, she turned and saw him. She didn't seem too happy about it either.

With her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face, she marched right over to Santa Claus. She didn't care that she was much smaller than he was, she was determined to give him a piece of her mind.

'What do you think you're doing," she rudely asked.

Santa turned and saw her. He was about to say something, until she interrupted him.

"Don't talk while I'm talking! That's rude," Joss snapped. "Now what are you doing in my home?"

Santa couldn't help but laugh. He just couldn't be angry at the little girl's ranting.

"There's no need to be angry, Joss. I was only…"

"How do you know my name," Joss interrupted him. "You don't look like the Santa Claus I saw at the mall last week!"

"That was just one of my helpers. I send all my helpers to malls to find out what all the good little boys and girls would like for Christmas and then they send me the list up at the North Pole," Santa explained.

"What list am I on," Joss demanded to know. She stamped her foot as she waited for an answer.

"Well if you were on the naughty list, I wouldn't be here, now would I," Santa grinned.

Joss rolled her eyes in annoyance. "I don't know. I'm not a genius," she rudely answered. "Now, what else does that so called nice list say about me," she used air quotes on the words "nice list".

"Nothing," said Santa. "It just says you've been a very good girl this year."

Joss's angry scowl relaxed a bit.

"Oh. Well I'm going to bed now. Arguing with you has made me very sleepy," she turned off the television and turned to go back down the dark hallway that lead to her bed room. She stopped suddenly and turned back to Santa Claus. The scowl had returned to her face.

"You better not wake up my parents and tell them I was out of bed," she warned.

Santa smiled at the little girl. "I promise I won't tell them," he said as he watched as Joss march down the dark hallway and into her bed room.

* * *

 **End of chapter two. I 'd love to know what you all thought. So please leave me some reviews. Chapter three will be up as soon as possible.**


	3. You're Real!

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed for the second chapter. I really appreciate it! I hope you'll like this next chapter just as much!**

 **Disclaimer: Nope. I own no one in this chapter.**

* * *

It was a little past 11:00 pm on Christmas Eve. Seven year old Lionel Fusco had just went into the kitchen to get himself a drink of water. Both his parents were peacefully sleeping in their bedroom.

After getting a drink of water, Lionel was about to go back to bed, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw figure move in the living room. The figure was near the Christmas tree. Lionel decided to get a closer look at who or what it was. As he moved closer, he couldn't believe his eyes. Standing in his living room, was none other than Santa Claus.

Not knowing what to say or do, Lionel just stood there silently and with a confused look on his face. It all just seemed like a dream to him. A dream that he couldn't wake up from. No matter how many times he pinched himself, he just wouldn't wake up from it.

"Ouch," he hissed when he pinched himself a little too hard. It was then that he knew this wasn't a dream. Santa really was in his living room

Startled, Santa turned around to see Lionel standing behind him. He let out a laugh and tousled the little boy's hair.

"You scared me, Lionel. Now what are you doing out of bed?"

"You're real," Lionel blurted out, ignoring Santa's question.

"Of course I am," Santa let out another one of his laughs. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Lionel had never personally met Santa Claus. With the help of his parents, he always wrote a letter to him. And truthfully, Lionel didn't have much belief in the jolly old man.

"I just thought you were someone my parents and everyone else's parents just made up," Lionel sheepishly said. "I never thought you actually existed."

"You can see me, can't you," asked Santa.

"Yeah."

Santa laughed once more.

"Well that's good. I was beginning to think I had become invisible."

"Just when I thought things couldn't get any stranger, you take it to a whole new level," said Lionel. The confused look was still on his face. "I mean don't you think it I couldn't see you, I would've gone back to bed?"

"Perhaps you have a superpower that allows you to see me," Santa jokingly said. He once again tousled the little boy's hair.

Lionel rolled his eyes. "Superpowers are not real," he said. He was now starting to get annoyed.

"Anything's possible, Lionel," said Santa. "You didn't believe I was real at first, but then you changed your mind when you realized that I truly am. So don't you think superpowers could exist too? "

Lionel threw his hands up in defeat. "I give up," he said. I'm going back to bed."

Santa smiled as his watched Lionel disappear down the dimly lit hallway and into his bedroom. Santa then resumed with placing the rest of the gifts under the tree.

* * *

 **End of chapter three. Thanks for reading it! I'd really appreciate some reviews! I'll have chapter four up as soon as possible.**


	4. I'm Not Like Other Girls

**A/N: Thanks so much for all the reviews for chapter three! I really appreciate it! I hope you'll like chapter four just as much!**

 **Disclaimer: I own on one in this chapter.**

* * *

It was getting pretty late on that Christmas Eve night. While seven year old Sameen Shaw should've been in bed, she wasn't. Instead, she was sitting at the island in the kitchen and eating a chocolate chip cookie that was meant for someone else. She was about to sink her teeth into a second cookie when she saw someone coming down the fireplace.

She knew it was Santa Claus. So she didn't even bother to move from her place in the kitchen. She sat while enjoying the cookies and watching Santa place gifts under the Christmas tree in the living room. There was blank expression on her face.

After about a few minutes, Santa had finished placing the gifts under the tree. He was about to leave when he heard a voice.

"There better be a turkey club sandwich in one of those presents."

Santa turned towards the voice and smiled when he saw Sameen sitting at the island in the kitchen.

"You gave me quite a scare, Sameen," he admitted. "I didn't even know you were there," he laughed as he walked towards the little girl.

"Did you bring me a sandwich like I asked you," Sameen asked, not even bothering to say hello. There was still a blank expression on her face.

"Now Sameen, you know a sandwich would spoil under a tree if was left there all night," Santa explained. "Instead, I brought you a nice…"

"You could have put the sandwich in the fridge," Sameen interrupted Santa.

"I'm sorry," Santa apologized with a sincere smile. "but I'm sure you'll be very pleased with the Singing Stella doll I left for you instead."

"Why would I want one of those," Sameen was now on her third chocolate chip cookie. "What am I supposed to do with it?"

"She's a quite popular toy," said Santa. "All the little girls in the world asked for one."

"I'm not like other girls. A singing Stella doll does not sound like fun."

"She has a recorder on her. So you can record your voice when you sing with her," Santa tried to reason with the child.

"I don't like to sing. I like to eat."

"Oh I'm sure you'll change your mind, tomorrow morning," Santa let out a laugh. He then saw the plate of chocolate chip cookies and glass of milk. "Aren't those supposed to be my cookies and glass of milk," he asked in a friendly way.

Sameen shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't get a sandwich, so you're not getting any cookies," she took a drink of the milk. Suddenly, she made a face a quickly spit the milk back into the glass. "Ewe! Soy milk," suddenly with a sly smile, she pushed the glass towards Santa. "You can have the milk, though."

It was the first time Santa had seen her smile since he had been there that night. And he was a little creeped out by it. He mentally shook off the feeling and returned a smile to her.

"That's alright," he politely declined. "I'll pass."

Sameen shrugged her shoulders. She then snatched the last cookie off the plate and hopped down from the stool. Without saying another word, she walked away.

* * *

 **End of chapter four. Reviews will be very much appreciated! I'll have the fifth chapter up as soon as possible.**


	5. Protective

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the fourth chapter. I really appreciate it. I hope you'll enjoy this next chapter just as much.**

 **Disclaimer: I own no one in this chapter.**

* * *

Although he was only seven years old, John Reese was very protective of his family and his home. Earlier on that Christmas Eve night and with the help of his father, John pulled the two recliners together and made a fort by using blankets and pillows. He was going to camp out in the living room that night.

John was half asleep when he heard a noise coming from the fireplace around 10:45 that night. Now fully awake, and as quietly as he could, he quickly grabbed his sling shot and loaded a small pebble into it. He was prepared to use it.

He saw a pair of black boots hanging from inside the fireplace. He didn't do anything, but then he saw a pair of red pants attached to the boots. Although he was scared, John knew he had to protect his family and his home. He fired the sling shot, twice.

"Ouch," said a voice from within the fireplace. "my knee caps!"

"Come out and fight me," John demanded. With his sling shot still aimed, he was greeted by Santa Claus.

"Well, hello there, John Reese," Santa smiled at the boy. "I think you bruised my knee caps."

"If you don't think I know who you are," John began without saying hello. "you're wrong. I know exactly who you are. You're Santa Claus."

Santa let out a laugh. "If you know who I am, then why are you afraid of me," he asked.

John rolled his eyes in annoyance. "I'm not afraid of you. I just don't like you," he said. His sling shot was still raised and aimed at Santa. He was taking no chances. "You're always breaking into people's houses and taking their milk and cookies. That's not very nice."

Santa couldn't help but laugh at John's explanation.

"Oh, ho ho ho," he happily exclaimed. "but I'm always leaving presents for all the good boys and girls and in return, they leave me some milk and cookies. Now if…"

"Well, don't expect any milk and cookies from me," John interrupted Santa. "And don't bother trying to look for them. I have the hidden in a safe location. I just hope the milk doesn't spoil. If it does, then you owe my mommy three dollars," he glared at Santa.

"But I'm not the one who hid the milk," said Santa. "So I think it should actually…"

"I had to hide the milk because of you," John once again interrupted Santa. "So you better have three dollars if it does spoil or I will hunt you down and shoot your knee caps with my sling shot again," he threatened.

Once again, Santa laughed. He decided to play along with the little boy.

"I certainly wouldn't want that to happen," he said. "Now if you don't like me, then what did you send me a letter, asking for a toy dart gun?"

John looked at Santa as if he had grown a second head. "My parents wrote that letter," he said. "Didn't you look at the hand writing? There's no way I could write that good! And besides, if I really wanted a toy dart gun, I could just by one with my allowance money."

"So shall I take back the one I brought for you," asked Santa. There was a sly grin on his face.

"No," said John. The look on his face was becoming more serious. "I could use that one as back up if the one I buy, breaks or gets stolen."

"That's a really good idea, John," said Santa. He was about to tousle the little boy's hair, but stopped when John threatened to shoot him with his sling shot again. "Now shouldn't you be getting some sleep," asked Santa, changing the subject. "It's getting pretty late."

John lowered his sling shot at his side and was quiet for a moment. He looked as though he was thinking about something. Finally, he spoke.

"Well, since I hid the milk and cookies," he began. "I guess it's safe for me to go to bed," he crawled back into his fort. "Goodnight Santa," he fell fast asleep while Santa placed the gifts under the Christmas tree.

* * *

 **End of chapter five. I'd love to know what you all thought. So please leave me some reviews! The final chapter will be posted soon.**


	6. I Wasn't Talking To You

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the previous chapter. I'm glad you all enjoyed it! I hope you'll enjoy this final chapter just as much!**

 **Disclaimer: I own no one in this chapter.**

* * *

Santa Claus was in the living room of the Groves' house. It was Christmas Eve and he was placing gifts under the Christmas tree. It was quiet and everyone in the house was sleeping peacefully or… so he thought.

He was about to place the final gift under the Christmas tree when he was startled by a voice.

"Hello Fatty McFurball," the voice happily said.

Santa turned around and saw seven year old Samantha Groves. He smiled at her.

"Hello Samantha," he said. "Now that's not a very nice name to call me or anyone else."

"I wasn't talking to you," Samantha scowled at Santa. "I was talking to my imaginary pet penguin," she rolled her eyes at him. "His name is Fatty McFurball."

Santa laughed. "Oh I see. So where is he," he asked. "I don't want to step on him."

"Well, he was climbing the Christmas tree, until you scared him with your creepy voice," Samantha began. "And when he gets scared, he runs and hides."

"I don't think my voice is creepy, but if it really scared him, I'd like to know where he is so I can apologize to him," Santa sincerely said.

"He ran into that giant red bag of yours," Samantha pointed at the bag near Santa's feet. "You better hope he didn't leave a surprise in there for you," she warned."He poops a lot when he gets scared."

Santa laughed. "Well, I sure hope there are not unpleasant surprises in the bag for me," he said. "Let's get him out of there," he reached into his red bag, but was stopped by Samantha.

"I wouldn't do that if you were you," Samantha warned.

Santa's hand was half way in the bag. "Why not," he asked. There was a look of concern etched on his face. "Is there a problem with me getting your imaginary pet out of my bag?"

"If you don't care about getting your hand chewed off, then no. There is no problem," Samantha smiled at him. "When Fatty McFurball hates someone, he chews their hands off," she crossed her arms over her chest. "and he doesn't like you."

"I think it would be best for you to get him out then," Santa stepped aside to allow the little girl to retrieve her imaginary pet. "I would like to keep both of my hands," he knew his hands weren't really in danger of being chewed off. He just decided to play along with the little girl.

Samantha stepped away from Santa's red bag. "Okay, I got him. You can have you bag back," she said. "You're lucky he didn't poop in there or chew off your hand."

Santa smiled. "You're absolutely right," he said. "I'm very lucky. Now is your imaginary pet penguin still here," his eyes darted around the living room. I'd really like to apologize to him."

Samantha looked at him as if he were crazy. "Were you not listening," she asked. "He's afraid of you!"

"I understand, but is he still in the room," Santa repeated his question.

"No. He's gone," admitted Samantha. "Don't expect me to tell you where he is because I won't. I'll tell him sorry for you."

"Thank you," said Santa. "I really appreciate that."

Samantha just shrugged her shoulders. "Eh… whatever. I'm going to bed," she yawned and stretched. "I'm tired now. Goodnight, Fuzzy McStinky Feet," She began walking upstairs to her bedroom.

"That's not a very nice name to call me," Santa called after the little girl.

"I wasn't talking to you," Samantha called back. She kept walking. "I was talking to Fatty McFurball's imaginary pet panda bear. Fuzzy McStinky Feet is her name," Samantha stopped suddenly and turned to face Santa. "Don't bother asking me where she is. She doesn't like you because you scared Fatty McFurball."

Santa smiled. "I appreciate you honesty, but don't you think it's odd for your imaginary pet penguin to have an imaginary pet panda bear," he asked with raised eye brows.

"Nope," Samantha replied. She turned back around and happily skipped up the stairs.

Santa just laughed to himself as he watched the little girl. He then picked up his red bag, threw it over his shoulder and vanished into the fireplace.

* * *

 **"May Peace be your gift at Christmas and your blessing all year through!" ~Author Unknown**

* * *

 **The end. I'd love to know what you all thought of this final chapter. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated. Oh and one more thing…. HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!**


End file.
